We all watch as Mallachy pauses for a moment and looks outside. His eyes narrow slightly and he frowns. Then he looks back at us.
‘Yes, I think so. I know these waters well. It will be much quicker than phoning the coastguard on the mainland.’
There’s something about the way he pauses before speaking that makes me believe him. Besides, what choice do we really have?
‘OK then, let’s go,’ says Lorna.
I pull the hood of my raincoat up. For a second Jack and I look across at Lorna and the three of us nod grimly in understanding. Despite everything that happened yesterday, right now we are united. The look we share says we each know how it feels – the churning in our stomachs, the fear that races through our blood, the terror of being a parent.
‘We’ll wait here,’ says Sarah. ‘Perhaps the boat just came loose somehow in the storm and the girls are still on the island. Mallachy, call the coastguard if it gets too rough.’
‘I will.’
We head out into the rain in the direction of Mallachy’s boat, Rex following behind us. As we walk, the wind and the sound of the waves seem to dull and all I can hear is one phrase repeating itself over and over in my head.Please let them be OK. Please let them be OK. Please let them be OK.
Chapter 25
Lorna
My daughter is missing. I still can’t fully comprehend it. Ella is missing.
Rain lashes against my face as Mallachy’s boat rises on the crest of another wave, the sound of the engine barely rising above the crashing of the water. We lurch then fall, the hull slapping onto the surface of the sea, salty spray ricocheting in all directions. Mallachy grips the wheel, feet firmly planted and eyes narrowed, staring with focus out into the mist where Caora Island is only just visible on the horizon. Rex stands at his side barking into the wind, fur sodden. Jack and Alice sit opposite me, gripping onto each other and the railings. Alice’s face is buried into Jack’s shoulder, just above the life jacket Mallachy insisted we all wear. With one hand Jack holds Alice’s head, smoothing strings of wet hair out of her face.
I feel the surge of another wave in my stomach. Nausea and fear rise inside me, pulsating through my blood and making my limbs stiff and heavy. My skin feels raw, whipped by the wind and the rain. I lick my cracked lips and taste the sharp tang of salt.
I want to close my eyes and bury my neck down inside my sodden coat and the padding of my life jacket. But I must keep them open. I can’t let myself look away from the island in the distance. If I keep my focus out there, perhaps my desire alone will reel us in, pulling us into the shore. I must not picture Ella and Molly making this crossing last night or in the early hours of the morning, huddled inside a small boat and buffeted by the waves. But in my head, I hear the sound of my daughter’s cries and waves crashing against a tiny hull.
‘We must be getting closer!’ Alice shouts suddenly, lifting her head, her expression stricken. Looking at her, I realise this is my fault. I think back to the conversation with Ella last night as the cousins clung to each other on Olive’s bed. I did this. They fled because of me, because I was tearing them apart. I’ve never felt so sick at myself in all my life.
Alice looks wildly around her and then lets out a strangled cry.
‘Why aren’t we getting closer?’
Her sobs are lost for a moment as the boat tilts and rips through another wave. Mallachy nearly stumbles this time, but manages to maintain his grip on the wheel.
‘The tide is against us,’ he shouts into the wind. ‘I’m doing the best I can.’
I squint into the rain. But Caora Island still seems so far away. Alice is right. We’ve been on this boat for over half an hour but it really does feel as though we’re getting no closer. Maybe the girls are still on Kip after all? Maybe Ben’s boat being missing was a coincidence – perhaps it simply became untethered in the bad weather?
I glance across again at Alice and Jack. There are droplets of water rolling down my brother’s face. Is it just the rain? But then his body shudders with a silent sob. His eyes are tightly closed but then he opens them and looks across at me, his mouth slightly open but no sound coming out. Alice is buried into his side again, seemingly oblivious to his tears as she cries into his jacket.
Watching Jack, I see him again at fourteen, that same soundless cry caught in his throat as I left the island for good. I see him when he was younger, curled up in his bed, shaking with the fear of the nightmares he knew would be waiting for him when he went to sleep. I see him smiling up at me as I handed him a perfect shell found on the beach. For a moment I think back to the words we exchanged yesterday in the house where we grew up, the house where we fought in our own different ways to make it through the life we’d been given. It still hurts to know that even after all these years he believes my parents’ version of the truth over mine. But he is my brother and he is Molly’s father. And for once I understand how he feels, because I feel it too. Our daughters are lost and I have never been so afraid. I lean forwards and reach out my hand.
He looks at my hand for a moment. I leave it there, hanging in the space between us. And then for the first time in more than twenty years we are touching one another, our handsintertwined. His fingers are cold and damp. But this is my brother’s hand. The rain pours and the boat rocks and tilts and I hold Jack’s hand tightly in mine.
And then he shifts away and pulls back his arm and the connection between us is broken. We are two islands again, separated by time and silence. I sit alone, watching the restless sea and listening to the sound of the waves and the beating of my own heart.
‘There’s something in the water!’ Mallachy cries.
Jack and I leap up. Alice is on her feet too, gripping the railing of the boat and peering overboard. She starts to scream.
‘Oh my god. Oh my god.’
What has she seen? I stare in the water but can see nothing but the dark waves coiling around the boat.
‘Lorna, take the wheel a second,’ says Mallachy. Before I can protest he steps away and rushes to the side where Jack leans over, arms outstretched towards the water.
I don’t want to see what they are reaching for. I grip the wheel tightly, feeling the weight of the waves against the hull and realising the strength Mallachy has been using all this time just to keep the boat from spinning and veering with the force of the water. He must be exhausted. Rex barks loudly as Jack and Mallachy scramble and reach out for something at the side of the boat. But I look ahead. If I keep looking ahead, whatever they have found in the water does not exist. If I keep looking ahead, everything will be all right.
